Only of You
by Adam Hunt
Summary: Holmes has unrequited feelings towards Watson. Chapters will be considerably longer, I wanted to start out with a brief beginning.
1. Watson, what have you done?

Holmes had been acting strange all week and considering it was Friday evening and he still hadn't risen from his place on the settee since that morning, Watson sensed that this wasn't just a case that was tormenting him. Pushing the door to the sitting room open all the way, Watson walked in and leaned against the chair opposite his roommate.

"Holmes? Old boy, what are you doing. You haven't moved all day, really its not good for your legs to be in such a state, they need to move so your blood can circulate".

Holmes said nothing in reply, his grey eyes glazed over and distant, his attire being only his white shirt, boots and trousers. His shirt was unbuttoned down to his mid chest, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair wild and unkept making him look crazed, Watson urged on.

"Holmes".

No reply.

"..Holmes".

Feeling his temper getting the better of him, Watson told himself inwardly to calm down. If there was anything he hated more than anything, it was being blatantly ignored. Sighing and rubbing his eyes with both hands he started again,

"Holmes I-" Sherlock cut him off abruptly, the intense volume of his voice startling Watson.

"GET OUT, WILL YOU. OBVIOUSLY I WISH NOT TO SPEAK WITH YOU. GET OUT". He was staring up at Watson, eyes wide and dark, brow furrowed in frustration, both hands gripping the cushion beneath him tightly. Watson swallowed thickly, hurt flashing through his eyes at Holmes' tone, and nodded quickly, turning on his heel and limping out of the room but not before muttering a soft "...s-sorry to have disturbed you" and shutting the door behind him. Holmes let out a shaky breath, his shoulders heaving forward as his elbows rested on his knees, face falling into his open palms. He spoke softly into his hands, his eyes shut tightly,

"...oh, John..if you only knew..".


	2. MIA

Watson sat down on his bed, still stunned by Holmes' reaction towards him. Yes they fought frequently, but never to the point in which Holmes lost his temper so wildly. He shook the image of Holmes' wild eyes from his head and cleared his throat uneasily, settling into the silence of the room and beginning to undress.  
>_<p>

He was the first one up in the morning, as always. Donning his dressing gown, he grabbed his cane and limped out of his room, glancing at Holmes' still closed bedroom door and went down to the kitchen for tea. 'I wonder what has him so worked up...' Watson thought to himself, honestly worried about his best friend. Usually they told each other everything, no matter the personal aspect of the given matter. They were closer than most lovers. Watson smiled lightly at the thought before jumping at a loud explosion from upstairs. Smile quickly fading into a frown, Watson sighed and sat down at the kitchen table, pouring himself a cup of tea from the tray that Mrs. Hudson had left. 'Guess he's up...'.

Holmes hadn't slept. He hadn't even glanced at his bed. His eyes wild with exhaustioin, he ran a hand through his ravenous hair, looking down at the shattered glass he had been mixing his latest concoction in. He felt bad for yelling at Watson last night. He didn't know how to handle the situation. They were best friends for christ sake. Best. Friends. What was he supposed to say?" 'Oh, Watson old boy, by the way. I am completely unequivocally totally in love with you'. Yeah, that would go over well. Holmes pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 'Things wont be the same now...I'm sure of it'. Realizing he wouldn't be able to face Watson, he quickly dropped his dressing gown to the floor and changed his clothes, changing into a new white shirt, black trousers and one of Watson's waistcoats that he stole. Grabbing his hat and jacket, Holmes made his way out his bedroom door, down the 17 steps and out the door of Baker Street without looking towards the kitchen, feeling Watson's eyes on him. He needed to get away, to clear his head. He found himself wandering down by the docks, not even looking for a destination, just for some clarity towards his feelings. 'Is this...is this really happening?' He thought about how his pulse quickened every time Watson walked in the room, and how Watson's smile sent him over the edge every time he beamed at him. How he found it hard to breathe when Watson's fingers brushed his when they handed things to each other, and how he laid awake at night, holding a pillow close to himself wishing that it was him. 'This is pathetic...' Holmes sighed, kicking one of the boat ropes that was laying in a heap on the dock. 'He's an established gentleman. He would never return these feelings. Never.' Deciding that he wouldn't be returning home for the rest of the day, Holmes set out for an early morning drink at one of the pubs downtown, planning on drinking his way into a stupor.

It was 9 o'clock in the evening and Watson was pacing the floorboards. Holmes wasn't back yet and he was more than worried. 'Where is he, where could he have gone. Is he okay? Does he need me? Is it a case? I hope he's not injured'. Watson's head was full of thoughts. He sat down in Holmes' armchair and bent over, picking up the Holmes' dressing gown that was laying on the floor. He slowly brought it towards his chest, closing his eyes and taking in Holmes' scent. Tobacco and mint. He felt his heart flutter and laid back into the armchair, the dressing gown resting in his lap.

"Oh, Holmes...if you only knew..".


	3. You

Watson had fallen asleep in the armchair, both hands laid out on Holmes' dressing gown that rested in his lap. He woke with the rays of sunlight that came through the big windows in front of him, squinting and sitting forward he looked around the room, not seeing any sign of Holmes or his jacket and hat, taking it as a sign that he hadn't returned last night at all. Sighing, Watson stood, draping the dressing gown over the armchair and taking his cane he limped out of the room and across the hall into his own bedroom where he shut the door and made his way into the bathroom to take a bath.

Holmes woke in an alley, resting upon a pile of old rags someone had left there. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes roughly he looked around the alley, mentally cursing himself for drinking himself into oblivion the day before as his head was pounding. Slowly his stood and made his way out of the alley, hands shoved deep in his pockets, he walked along, observing happy couples as they walked past him. 'I want something like that...but my heart wants it with...with...' Shaking the idea of Watson out of his head quickly, Holmes continued to walk, seeing a sign for a cafe and noticing how badly his stomach was rumbling, he quickly went inside and sat down to eat breakfast.

Night had fallen again and Holmes still wasn't home. Watson was on the brink of a nervous breakdown as he walked back inside their flat and shut the door behind him, having his search for Holmes not turn out as he planned. He hung his hat and coat on their respective racks and went upstairs to the sitting room where he sat down in Holmes' armchair and rubbed his eyes. 'Where are you, my love...' Watson felt empty without Holmes by his side, he felt incomplete. He feared the worst had happened to his best friend and tears began to prick his eyes, he swallowed them down and blinked them away with force, getting up and pouring himself a glass of brandy.

And thus this continued for the next 3 nights, no sign of Holmes, not even a note from him to let Watson know he was okay. Watson had fallen asleep in Holmes' armchair after waiting up again, his waistcoat on the floor, white shirt unbuttoned to his chest and his sleeves rolled to his elbows, his cravat lay open around his neck and his suspenders were hanging at his sides. Holmes quietly made his way into his room and let his eyes fall on Watson's sleeping form. 'John..' Holmes' eyes grew soft and he ran a hand through his own wild hair. He had been staying at a hotel down on Persley Street, hiding from his feelings. Holmes swallowed, gaining the courage to speak.

"..Watson." He gently nudged Watson's shoulder, watching his friend's blue eyes open slowly and look up at him.

"...H-Holmes!" John quickly sprung up from his seat smiling, his smile turn into an infuriated frown, his eyebrows furrowed, he quickly raised his fist and swung at Holmes, hitting him square in the jaw, causing him to fly back.

"WHERE THE DEVIL HAVE YOU BEEN. HAVE YOU EVEN THE SLIGHTEST CLUE WHAT HELL I'VE BEEN THROUGH THESE PAST DAYS? DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED I'VE BEEN? I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD. DEAD, HOLMES. YOU LEAVE WITHOUT SAYING A WORD, NOT A WORD AND THEN YOU JUST WALTZ IN HERE AT YOUR OWN ACCORD." Watson was fuming, his fists balled at his sides, eyes dark and stormy, cheeks flushed. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU".

Holmes just stood there, eyes wide at Watson's fit, he was holding his jaw which was starting to turn a light purple. His voice came out as a small squeak.

"W-Watson..I-" Watson cut him off.

"NO. DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO APOLOGIZE. THIS IS RIDICULOUS. I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS. HOLMES I WAS READY TO GO TO LESTRADE. I CANT EVEN-" Watson was now pacing back and forth, limping as he went.

"Watson, please don't-"

"SHUT UP, HOLMES."

"Watson, I wanted-"

"I SAID SHUT UP"

"JOHN, I LOVE YOU".


	4. Touching

Watson stopped moving, his breath hitching in his throat. His eyes softened as he looked at Holmes, seeing his hand trembling at his side, the other holding his injured jaw.

"You..y-you what?"

Holmes' voice was much quieter than before, just above a whisper. He looked at Watson with soft, scared eyes, taking a deep breath and finally coming clean to him.

"I...I love you, John. I always have. And I don't know how to explain it because I'm scared. I'm scared because I've never felt like this before for anyone else, I've never had the ability to be this honest before and it scares me to death. I know that you're the only thing that's on my mind when I wake up in the morning and the only thing that on my mind when I fall asleep at night. I know that if anything were ever to happen to you I'd fall apart. You have to understand that this is different for me, this never happens. ...I love you so much it hurts." Holmes' voice was trembling as he spilled himself to Watson, his hands were at his sides shaking as he felt a giant weight being lifted off his chest. The room was silent as the two friends looked at each other, eyes boring into the other's with force. Watson didn't say anything, he swallowed and looked down at the floor, turning around so that he wasn't facing Holmes, his eyes brimming with tears at his confession. Holmes took in his reaction and furrowed his brow, swallowing roughly, feeling a sharp pain in his chest.

"I-...I'm sorry I said anything. Please forget my words, Watson". Holmes quickly turned and made hastily for the door to the hallway, his eyes clouding over with tears as he quickly left and shut it behind him. Mrs. Hudson had gone to the country to see her family and the flat was empty, allowing Holmes to let his tears fall freely down his face. He walked into the downstairs sitting room and lent over the table, his back toward the door, he let out a soft strangled sob, eyes shutting tight and hair falling into his face. Not only did he tell Watson how he felt about him, he jeopardized their relationship.

"I'm s-so stupid..." Holmes sniffed out, his knuckles white from gripping the table so hard.

Strong arms wrapped around him from behind and Holmes froze, swallowing a cry.

"...You're not stupid, darling..." Watson leaned his body into Holmes' and placed a soft butterfly kiss on his neck, closing his eyes and taking in Holmes' scent.

"W-watson, I-" Watson cut him off.

"If we are to be together, darling the least you could do is call me John..." Watson's voice was soft against Holmes' neck, placing another soft kiss directly below where he left the last one. Holmes' eyes widened and he turned to face Watson slowly, looking up into his beautiful blue eyes.

"T...together? You mean you.."

"I love you too, Sherlock...I always have. I've been holding these feelings in for so long," Watson let out a tearful laugh "...so long...I didn't know if you felt the same, I couldn't read your expressions, and then you left without coming back and it killed me, darling. The thought of being without you killed me". Watson gently ran his fingers across Holmes' cheek, softly caressing it. Holmes' smiled softly, looking up into Watson's eyes, searching them. He gently removed his hands from the table behind him and rested them on Watson's hips. closing his eyes he leaned forward and laid his head against Watson's chest, feeling the bare skin on his cheek where Watson's shirt was unbuttoned. Watson leaned his head down and placed a soft kiss in Holmes' unruly hair, happiness overwhelming both of them. Holmes lifted his head and looked up into Watson's eyes, their faces inches from one another. He glanced down at Watson's lips and then looked back up into his eyes before closing his own and slowly closing the gap between them, gently placing his lips on Watson's. Both their stomachs were in knots at the feelings the erupted inside of them both as their lips touched, Watson pulled Holmes closer, one hand on the nape of Holmes' neck, the other in Holmes' hair and tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss and parting his lips, allowing Holmes' to slip his tongue into his mouth.

"Mm.." Holmes made a soft sound as their kiss turned passionate, his hands were exploring Watson's body, feeling every muscle, every piece of exposed skin below his neck. Holmes moved up onto the table that was behind him, sitting down without breaking their feverish kiss, his hands gripped Watson's white shirt as Watson kissed away from his mouth and down his neck. Holmes felt his eyes roll back as he let out a soft moan at the sensation.

"Oh, John..." Smiling against Holmes at the sound of his first name, he found Holmes' hand and pulled him off the table, biting his own lip and leading them both stumbling up to the bedroom.


End file.
